


The Final Lesson

by HouseofAustrich



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Blood Magic, Gen, Human male lavellan, Magic Lessons, Original Character - Freeform, Original Male Character - Freeform, no beta we die like men, original non binary character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 12:10:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseofAustrich/pseuds/HouseofAustrich
Summary: A quick one-shot I did for a friend using one of our shared OCs. Lucien Lavellan learns magic from his “Uncle” Sparker.





	The Final Lesson

The embankment above West Hill is where they hold their lessons; in a wooded hollow hidden from view.  They have held many lessons on magic here; from creation to spirit to primal. Today, they take a break from healing, their most recent curriculum, to focus again on fire. Winter is coming and the autumn wood is wet from rain, making the conditions perfect.

 

“Steady your hands, Lucien,” says Sparker, their voice gentle but firm, “It is not the fire that controls you, but quite the opposite.” 

 

Lucien is 14 but still boyish looking, a thin frame wrapped in large hand-me-downs from the neighbor’s son. His black hair sticks to his face, slick from the recent rain. 

 

“I’m freezing! Why would my hands not shake?” He protests, teeth chattering.

 

Sparker grins in amusement, and lifts their right hand before their face. With a snap of their fingers, a small ball of flame appears at will, casting light across their face. Their honeysuckle hair and large elven eyes seem to shine even brighter than usual. 

 

“When you can cast a flame, you’re never cold,” They bring their hand close to Lucien, watching as he pulls back at first, but then settles into the warmth of the flame.

 

“However, you must remember that fire, like magic misused, is dangerous.”

 

Sparker pulls their hand away, the flame extinguishing with a crackle as they pull up the sleeve of their left arm. Underneath, the skin is white and wrinkled, the leftover signs of failed fire magic. 

 

“And this Is why you must practice your hand movements.” 

 

Sparker rounds their fire pit to stand across from Lucien, their grey wool robe dark in the long wet grass. They pick up their staff from the ground, a long twisted-looking staff with no discernible focusing crystal. With a quick tap of the staff to the ground, the fire in between them roars to life, the feeling of mana washing over both like the rain. 

 

“I want you to try to control the flame.” 

 

+++

 

The wood is quiet except for the crackling fire, the trees calm in the mid afternoon air. 

 

His mana depleted, Lucien rests in the grass, watching Sparker demonstrate various motions in front of the fire. He feels weak, and a bit sluggish, lying on his side as he listens to his mentor. Sparker, in an attempt to inspire, conjures a magic flame in the shape of a small dragon, using their magic to control the flame. 

 

The sudden extinguishment of the dragon is marked by the sudden feeling of mana, or rather the lack of it. In a flash, Sparker is upon him, gripping him tightly by the arm, their belt dagger at his throat.

 

“When I let you go, you must run. Find Iseris, find your parents and then leave with whatever you can carry. Go to Denerim,” Their voice is a whisper, yet hard like steel, an edge that Lucien has never known Sparker to possess before.

 

“Spark..?” He starts to speak, but finds his breath catch at the sight of their attackers stepping into the clearing. 

 

Three Flaming swords. Three Templars. The Templar in the middle holds something out above them in a taunt. It glows red. A phylactery. 

 

Lucien feels the dagger at his throat tremble; but finds the tremble in Sparker’s hand nothing compared to the tremble in his knees. 

 

“Apostate! Let the boy go, and we shall reclaim you peacefully!” The middle Templar yells across the distance, the two flanking Templars stepping towards them in a fan formation. 

 

“Step no closer!” Sparker demands, dragging Lucien a step back. “I will slit his throat!” 

 

The Templars stand in formation against them; neither they nor Sparker making a move. The Templars, Lucien thinks, look almost as nervous as he feels. Suddenly, Sparker pushes him forward. He hits the ground hard, falling onto his side. He watches in horror as Sparker takes their belt dagger and drives the blade through their palm with bared teeth.

 

“Run boy!” Sparker yells as they blast the closest Templar with blood-summoned fire. 

 

Lucien takes off with a jolt; the agonized shrieks of the dying Templar disappearing into the sounds of cracking branches and leaves underfoot as he runs away. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
